


Spinning Stars

by Heather Dursley (Keolah)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Immortality, POV First Person, Present Tense, Temporary Character Death, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Heather%20Dursley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry Potter dies, he finds himself back at one fateful Halloween as a baby again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spinning Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if I'm actually going to go anywhere with this. Don't be surprised if it never gets another chapter.

It all started with a flash of green light.

Now, for most people, that would have been where it ended. The Killing Curse isn't exactly known for leaving survivors, aside from people who manage to duck fast enough, but I've never exactly been normal. Nothing is ever normal in my life. Not even the day it is supposed to end.

I don't remember very clearly exactly what happened that day. I'm only one and some change, and actually that age at this point. Is it something my mother did that caused this, or is it merely an inborn ability of my own?

Small and confused, I'm scooped out of the wreckage and shuffled off quickly to another place, abandoned on a doorstep in the night, and left in the care of the most miserable Muggles on Earth.

On Dudley's third birthday, he's being a bit rough. I fall down and hit my head. My vision swims. And then I find myself staring at the stars through a hole in the roof again.

I don't understand what happened at first. I'm not even three years old yet, after all. But again, I'm swept away and left with the Dursleys.

I'm more careful this time. I'm still neglected and abused, bullied by my bigger, stronger, better-fed cousin. Still, it all seems like a very strange dream, and as the years pass, I dismiss it entirely as the mis-remembering of one too young to understand what's going on or keep events straight.

And then the letters come. Hagrid tells me I'm a wizard. I go shopping in Diagon Alley and see my first glimpse of the wonders of the magical world. I might have thought that was all a dream, too, if I hadn't had tangible evidence of it to bring back. Books, and supplies, and my snowy white owl, Hedwig.

It's a long month of excited waiting and eager reading, and then the train takes me away to Hogwarts. New friends, a few new enemies as well, but I'm used to being bullied by now. Malfoy is no different from Dudley in that regard, for all that he has magic.

Toward the end of September is our first flying lesson. I'm pretty good with a broom right away, but of course, Neville makes everyone else look like prodigies. Somehow, this leads to a midnight duel with Malfoy. One which he never shows up for, and we find the caretaker, Filch, looking for us instead.

As we're running, we come upon a locked door. Hermione says, "I'll get it! _Alohomora!_ " The door opens with a click, and we pile inside in a rush.

But we're not alone on the other side. Behind us, there's the sound of heavy breathing and low growling, like from multiple enormous animals. I turn around quickly, but I can't see much in the dark corridor. Hermione and Ron are already scrambling to get the door open again and flee, but I'm a moment too slow. Slobbering fangs find me and rip me apart, screaming in pain.

And then I'm staring up at the stars through a hole in the roof.

What in the name of whoever just happened? That was _no_ dream. There's no way I can dismiss ten years as a dream. It's clear, fresh in my memory like it just happened. I can clearly remember the voices of Ron and Hermione, the feeling of enormous teeth upon my body...

And here I am again, a year old, but my mind is as sharp and developed as it had been at eleven. I'm not a baby anymore, mentally, even if I'm all tiny and pudgy again.

I climb to my feet and clutch the top of my crib, and look around the room. The moment I see my mum's body laying on the floor, I wish I hadn't. I'd long since gotten used to the idea that my parents were dead, but being back here and seeing it like this? Flopping back down again, I start crying.

Footsteps. Someone else is in the room, but being very quiet. Scarcely daring to move, I peer out between the bars of the crib as a rat-faced man creeps in and worriedly looks around at the scene.

"Oh, no no no," he mutters to himself. "This wasn't how it was supposed to go, not at all." He quickly snatches up a bone-white wand from the floor and tucks it away before slipping out himself.

Who in the world was that?

A little bit later, a slightly scruffy dark-haired man enters the room. "Oh, Lily..." he says, then comes over to my crib. His eyes widen and his face brightens when he sees that I'm still alive. "Harry! It can't be! You... You're alive!"

At least this one is glad to see that I survived. The other man didn't even seem half that friendly. I'm carried downstairs and outside.

"Sirius!" says an enormous man once we're outside. I can't see him very well from here, but I recognize the voice as Hagrid. "Dumbledore sent me to check on the place. Merlin's beard, is that little Harry? He's still alive?"

Sirius passes me over to Hagrid. "Can you get him to Dumbledore as quick as you can? You can use my bike. I've got... something I need to take care of." He practically snarls that last bit.

"Don't worry, little Harry," Hagrid says. "I'll get you somewhere safe."

I have no idea how I managed to forget a ride on a flying motorcycle the last time. Maybe I slept through it somehow? Well, I must have made it through it the first time alright, so there's no need to panic about it this time, even if it _is_ Hagrid flying the thing.

We arrive, and Dumbledore takes me from Hagrid, puts me in a conjured basket with a note, and leaves me with nothing but a thin blanket and a warming charm almost as an afterthought to keep out the chill autumn air. As they leave, a sense of dread wells up inside of me, as I realize that I'm being left at the Dursleys' doorstep again.

Oh, man, I'm going to be stuck with the Dursleys for ten years again? Why did Dumbledore leave me here, anyway? Surely he couldn't have realized how miserable it would be for me. Why couldn't that Sirius fellow have taken me in? He seemed alright.

There's nothing I can do, though. I'm just a baby, and I have no way to contact anyone, never mind any way to get anywhere. I suppose things could be worse, after all. I could be dead. Multiple times over.

I want my wand back. I want to be back at Hogwarts, learning magic. I'm a wizard, not a freak. As the years pass, my few short weeks at Hogwarts seem more and more like a dream. And yet, there are ever-present reminders of who and what I really am. Spurts of accidental magic. Strangely dressed people bowing to me in shops. I'm not mad, I'm not a freak, and that was no dream. That glimmer of hope carries me through my years at Number Four, Privet Drive.

And then the letter arrives in the post. My heart leaps for joy as I feel it in my hands. I knew it wasn't a dream, but this is real, tangible proof.

"Dad! Harry's got something!"

Bugger all. Uncle Vernon comes over to confiscate my Hogwarts letter before I can stop him.

"Hey!" I protest. "That's mine!"

"Who would be sending letters to _you_ , boy?" Uncle Vernon says. His face goes white as his eyes scan the envelope.

Nothing I can do at this point prevents the situation from playing out pretty much like it did before. Every attempt I make to get my hands on one of my letters is stopped by Uncle Vernon. I'm very grateful to see Hagrid arrive to finally put a stop to this, much to my uncle's chagrin.

"You know all about Hogwarts, of course."

"Of course," I say brightly.

"What?" Uncle Vernon roars. "What are you talking about, boy?"

"I _know_ I'm a wizard, Uncle Vernon," I reply. "Whatever you might have tried to tell me otherwise. And I _know_ my parents weren't killed in a car crash."

"You told him _what_?" Hagrid roars.

Uncle Vernon is turning purple in rage at this point, as if he weren't already angry enough to begin with.

"Never mind that, though," I say. "Let's just go, alright?"

"Of course, Harry," Hagrid says. "Let's get you off to Diagon Alley to pick up your school supplies."

When we arrive at magical London, I feel like a decade's worth of tension is melting away from me in moments. I need to be more careful this time. Most people, when they die, that's that. They don't get another chance to think about what they did wrong. Me, on the other hand... Would just dying be preferable to spending another ten years with the Dursleys? Nah, not really. But I'd still prefer to avoid it if at all possible.

At least this time, I'll be able to look like less of a dunderhead in front of Draco Malfoy in the clothing shop.

"It's too bad they don't let us first years have our own brooms at school," Draco says. "Play Quidditch much?"

"Not yet," I say. "But I'm pretty good on a broom. Maybe they'll pick me for a house team in a year or two if I'm lucky."

Or immediately get made Seeker of the house team after randomly grabbing a Remembrall out of the air. Was I really that good, or were they just that desperate for a new Seeker?

"Maybe," Draco says. "Which house do you think you'll be in? I'm sure I'll be in Slytherin. All of my family have been."

"Well, my parents were both in Gryffindor," I say.

"Oh," Draco says, tensing for a moment. "I see." He continues on a little reluctantly, "I suppose that's not so bad. I mean, imagine if you were in Hufflepuff! I'd probably leave, wouldn't you?"

"Nah," I reply. "Loyalty and determination aren't horrible things to aspire to, I wouldn't think."

"Well... I guess not, when you put it that way," Draco says thoughtfully. "I'd still rather be in Slytherin, though."

Strange. He still reminds me of Dudley, but in this loop, I find that I don't dislike Dudley nearly as much as I did before, too. Sure, he was awful to me, but honestly, I'll blame most of that on Uncle Vernon's indulgence and encouragement. Dudley didn't start out blaming me for everything. Vernon did, and Dudley just followed suit. Were Draco's parents like that, too?

Ten years can give a lot of perspective. I don't suppose I can really think of myself as an eleven year old boy. I'm twenty-one. No, actually, I think I'm twenty-three. It's a bit of a blur, but I _know_ I died when I was three, as well.

Once I'm out of Diagon Alley and back at Privet Drive, I hide away in my room and study diligently. I'm not going to let any surprise quizzes on the first day of class catch me off guard this time. I might not remember exactly what Snape asked of me, but I can be prepared.

I don't need the Weasleys' help to get on the train this time, but Ron still comes to befriend me on the train. I politely turn away Draco and his talk of some wizarding families being better than others, making a face at the clear reminder of what sort of person he is. Then we arrive at Hogwarts for the Sorting Ceremony.

"Hmm, where to put you?" the Sorting Hat whispers in my mind.

"Still not Slytherin," I think.

"Not Slytherin, hmm? You'd fit in well there, I think. There's cunning and ambition in this mind of yours, tempered by incredible patience and diligence. No? Well, in that case, it had better be HUFFLEPUFF!"

I'm a little surprised at that proclamation. I pull the hat off of my head and stumble over toward the Hufflepuff table. Did ten years really change me that much? I suppose if I _didn't_ have incredible patience, I'd wind up going insane long ago. I'm not wanting to be as foolish and reckless as I was before.

"Welcome to the house of the Badgers, Harry Potter," says one of the Hufflepuff prefects.

"Thank you," I say, smiling at her warmly.

I'm going to miss sharing a room with Ron, I think, but still, I make new friends. Ernie MacMillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley become my best friends instead. I like having Justin around, since he was also raised in the Muggle world, and he's much less obnoxious than Hermione.

My rivalty with Draco Malfoy is a little less heated as well. Perhaps because this time around, I recognize that this is just petty school bullying. I defend Justin from him, but for the most part, I don't let his words get to me. Flying lessons pass without any foolish duels or horrible deaths, although without becoming the youngest Seeker in a century, either. But that's alright.

And then comes Halloween. The scare of the troll loose in the castle is bad enough without the news that arrives the next morning. The troll killed a student last night. Hermione Granger had been alone in the loo and the troll had found her.

I stare at my plate in silent shock. I knew Hogwarts was dangerous. Hell, I was killed here before! But the truth of it perhaps hadn't really sunk in before. It's not just dangerous for me and others performing reckless antics, but to innocent bystanders as well. I didn't know or like Hermione very well, but she hadn't done anything deserving death.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Justin asks.

"Yeah," I reply. "I-- I'm fine."

"Did you know her? The girl who died?"

I shake my head. "Not really."

"I know what he's thinking," Hannah Abbott puts in. "It's that it could have been any of us, too! Is that right?"

"Something like that, I guess," I reply.

The months pass, a little more somberly after that for a while, but it seems Hermione didn't have many friends at all. No one really mourns her death, and some of the Slytherins are callous enough to celebrate the death of a Muggle-born.

There's still danger at the school, though. We don't know how the troll got in, and there's some sort of mystery involving what I discover to be the Philosopher's Stone. It seems like Snape is after this Stone, and if he isn't stopped, Voldemort will come back.

This leads me to the third floor corridor on the day after exams, after it turns out that Dumbledore is out of the castle. The door, however, is locked, of course.

"So... I don't suppose either of you know a spell to unlock doors?" I ask my friends hopefully.

"Not I," Justin says.

"Me either," Ernie says. "Sorry, mate."

Now, what was that spell Hermione cast to open it? Is that even in the first year curriculum? I'm not sure, but Justin is frantically looking through the Charms book to see.

"Here it is!" Justin says after several minutes of looking. " _Alohomora!_ "

It takes a few tries, but we get the door open. I'm ready for Fluffy this time, since Hagrid had let slip the hints about music and given me this flute. I start playing, and don't stop until the three of us are through the trapdoor, jumping down last myself.

It's dark down below, and something soft and squishy cradles our fall. The relief is only short-lived, however, as tendrils surround us tightly.

"What is this thing?" Ernie says, starting to panic. "Help!"

"I don't know!" I say, struggling against the vines even as they start to strangle me.

The more we struggle, the tighter the plant holds us. I can't breathe. Soon enough, I choke to death down in the darkness.

And then I'm staring at the stars again from my crib.


End file.
